Whiskers and Flowers
by White Mizerable
Summary: The founding day feast is quickly approaching, but for Alfred, a poor young Abbey mouse with more than a bit of a crush, there are much more important things than food to deal with. Redwall crossover AU.


Alfred was picking flowers.

Now, the act of picking flowers, in and of itself, was not out of the ordinary. The young mice of the Abbey could often be seen lounging around in the gardens on warm spring and summer days, snatching up whatever blooms caught their fancy, and a fresh bouquet was not an uncommon sight on the tables at dinner. Even at that moment, as the long-awaited evening of the founding day feast drew closer hour by hour, there were several older mice in their long robes scurrying around to collect the finest of flowers and ferns. No, picking flowers was something that most Abbey dwellers found not the least but curious.

It was Alfred himself that made the sight so interesting. The young mouse- though he was nearly an adult, he was still called a youth by his elders- was not of the type expected to be dillydallying among the flower bushes. He was far too tall, almost uncommonly tall for a simple mouse, with strong shoulders and a sharp intelligence in his eyes that could not be overlooked, no matter how foolish he acted, and a love of helping others that often kept him in the kitchen and orchards and rarely gave him the free time necessary to sort through the flowers quite as diligently as he was right then. In fact, he looked so focused that the elder mice did not speak a word to him for fear of interrupting whatever was running through his mind.

Had they actually known what a jumble of thoughts filled his brain, they might have realized what a generous act it would have been to distract him from them!

Alfred's fingers fumbled as they passed across the stem of a foxglove, and he panicked momentarily as he checked to make sure he had not accidentally broken or bruised it. Luckily, it appeared to be unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief, his whiskers twitching as he sat back on his heels, cradling the various flowers he'd already gathered in the crook of his left arm. He would have hated to have to listen once again to Arthur's rant about the proper care and handling of plants.

The very thought of Arthur made his ears droop slightly, his face coloring with a red blush. He raised his free hand to press against one burning cheek. "Oh, whiskers," he muttered to himself, trying to will away the image of those big green eyes, uneven teeth, and thick eyebrows.

Arthur was the reason for the current muddle of his thoughts. Alfred wasn't sure when it had happened, but somewhere between their first meeting, that day when Arthur had been carried half-alive through the Abbey's gates, and the present, his heart had decided that friendship was not enough, and that it wanted to beat wildly for Arthur and Arthur alone. The intensity of his feelings was enough to make Alfred's head spin whenever he was near the other mouse. It was just something about the shine in Arthur's eyes, the gentleness in his scarred fingers, the secrets behind his words… Whatever it was, Alfred could not seem to get enough of it.

And that was exactly why he was kneeling in the dirt in the middle of the garden, getting his robes messy only a few hours before the founding day feast was due to begin. He could smell the tempting aromas wafting from the kitchen. His tail twitched as his stomach growled. Had he been a mouse of any lesser willpower, Alfred might have abandoned his flowers there in the grass and fled inside for a bit of a preview of that evening's delicious dinner. But for that moment, at least, he had much more important matters to attend to, and he resolutely went on in his search through the flowerbeds and bushes, looking for only the best of the best blooms and leaves.

By the time Alfred had gathered enough foxgloves, poppies, daisies, and various other flowers of whose names he was not quite sure to make a suitable bouquet, the sun was already dipping low in the sky. The first fingers of reds and violets were stretching out across the wide expanse of blue, unhindered by any clouds, and the twin bells tolled out the early evening hour. Muffled voices began to ring from the other side of the Abbey as the numerous feast-goers made their way through the gate. The air was filled with a buzz of excitement.

Alfred lurched to his feet. He had spent far more time than he'd meant deciding on the perfect blossoms, and if the feast was about to start, his window of opportunity to find Arthur alone was quickly closing. To avoid the crowds at the front gate, he would have to run all the way around the back of the Abbey and everything! He hated to think that all this work would go to nothing, but there was no way he would be able to give the flowers to Arthur if other creatures were there watching. A brilliant flush crept over his face just thinking about it. He would be mocked for sure. With that imagined humiliation in mind, he bolted towards the backdoor of the kitchen, hoping to sneak through and find Arthur before the halls became crowded with merrymakers.

By the time he came to the kitchen door, Alfred was panting heavily, his ears pressed back against his head as he tried to make it inside in the best time possible. A quick dart around the cellar door, a turn around those trees- he was almost there!

"Alfred, my old friend!"

Rolling his eyes, Alfred slowed down his steps and turned slightly to look over at the nearly invisible shape of the hare leaning against one of the decorative trees. "What do you want, Francis? Can't you see I'm busy?" Despite his words, he could not seem to keep the grin off his face.

"Cruel words for a good friend," Francis berated him with an equally mischievous smile. "But I won't keep you long. I was only wondering who those lovely flowers were intended for."

"As if you don't know," Alfred said, laughing even as his stomach twisted at the thought of Arthur.

Francis sighed dramatically. "Oh, I was hoping you had cast aside your infatuation with that utter bore, but I suppose love can't be helped when it blooms between two idiots like yourselves." He waggled one long ear in Alfred's direction. "A bouquet like that might even manage to pull Arthur's head away from his books for a minute or two, if you're lucky."

Alfred rolled his eyes again and set off at slow jog. "Whatever you say, Francis. I'm sure all those lady hares would agree that you're the most charming creature around. Angelique seemed to be more fond of kicking you than kissing you, after all." He paused on the kitchen doorstep and waved back at Francis, ignoring his spluttered protests, but unable to part without one last word. "Try not to get so entranced by another hare's eyes that you forget to eat anything!"

"You're only jealous that you don't have beautiful ladies fawning all over you," Francis called after him. Alfred could picture his knowing smile.

Chuckling to himself, Alfred dodged around Elizaveta, bowing awkwardly in apology to the badger as he ran, and ducked beneath the large platter of fresh trout the Vargas squirrels were carrying between them. Feliciano shouted out a friendly greeting that Alfred barely had time to return before slipping out the door at the other end of the kitchen and into Great Hall. Creatures all of kinds were beginning to file in through the large front doors, and Alfred suffered a moment of panic as he searched out a possible escape route- he could not be seen carrying a bouquet of flowers. But he had lived in the Abbey for almost as long as he could remember, and within seconds he was running off across the Hall towards the door to one of the courtyards, and the library beyond it.

When looking for Arthur, the best place to start was always in the library!

Alfred slowed his steps once he was once again out in the warm evening air. Most of the inhabitants of the Abbey were inside, finishing up the last minute preparations for the feast, and though Alfred felt a pang of guilt for not participating in them himself, he was glad to find himself alone in the courtyard. It gave him a bit of a reprieve from all his running, a minute or two to fix his hair and comb back his whiskers and tug the dirt and wrinkles out of his robe. He wanted to make a good impression, not give Arthur something to scold him about.

Gathering up the flowers between his suddenly sweaty hands, Alfred swallowed heavily and strode forward towards the doors on the other side of the courtyard that would lead him to the library. He ran through his carefully planned speech in his head, reminding himself firmly not to stutter or blush or look away shyly. As long as he kept himself calm and composed and charming, there was no way Arthur would be able to turn him down.

With every step he took, though, he could almost feel his confidence draining away. He paused right outside the library doors, unable to make himself grab the handle to swing them open. Was his hair neat? Did he have grass stains on the knees of his robe? He shuffled nervously in place, glancing down at himself again. He did not see any stains, at least. Alfred ran his fingers through his hair again, trying to smooth down his cowlick. It refused to stay flat. All at once, he felt very stupid. What had he been thinking, trying to woo Arthur? This whole idea had been stupid from the start, he could see that now. Arthur would never consent to spending time with him as anything other than friends, if their awkward interactions could even be considered friendship. No, Arthur would want someone who would spend all day in the library and drink sweet herb tea with him. He wouldn't want someone like Alfred.

He stared sadly down at the bouquet in his hands. Even it seemed to wilt slightly beneath the onslaught of his nerves, and the once beautiful flowers looked battered and imperfect. Alfred heaved out a sigh as he let his hands droop down to his sides, turning away back towards Great Hall, his tail dragging limply behind him. He would find somewhere to put the flowers so that they would not go to waste.

"Alfred? Is that you?"

Alfred froze, one foot still in midair, and nearly tripped as he spun to face the source of that voice. Big green eyes, disheveled hair, mismatched ears- "Arthur!" The word came out far too loud, but Alfred plunged onwards, shoving the flowers behind his back as he continued, "I didn't see you there! I wasn't expecting you to be around here. What a coincidence!"

Frowning, Arthur cocked his head slightly to the side. "I'm always around here, Alfred. This is the library, remember?" He gestured at the doors. "We have met in there before."

"Oh, right." Alfred bit his lip, looking anywhere but down into those curious eyes. "Well, I guess I just wasn't expecting to see you here right now. I mean, the feast is going to start soon." He shifted the bouquet even further behind him. "Why aren't you at Great Hall? People are going to miss you if you don't show up."

Arthur shrugged, scowling. "Miss me? I wouldn't sound so sure. You know what people say about me, Alfred. Just because you don't care doesn't mean…" He closed his eyes and breathed out a sharp sigh, his whiskers twitching as his hands clenched into fists. When he reopened them, there was still a snap of fire deep in his irises, but he was no longer scowling quite so fiercely. "Never mind. If you were not looking for me, then, what were you doing over here with those flowers?"

"Flowers?" Alfred's voice broke in the middle, and he squared his shoulders as best he could to cover what he was hiding. He inwardly cursed himself for picking so many. "Are you seeing things, Arthur? Why would I have flowers? That's just dumb!"

"I saw them," Arthur said slowly, thick eyebrows raised. "I watched you put them behind your back. I'm not stupid."

Well, Alfred thought miserably, he was caught. He drew out the flowers from behind him, staring down into their petals to avoid meeting Arthur's eyes. An embarrassing flush was crawling up his cheeks. "These flowers. Yeah. They were for- I was going to bring them to- I wasn't…" A good excuse refused to come to him. He waited, tingling with nerves and disappointment, for Arthur to berate him for his lack of answer.

"Oh."

That was not what Alfred had expected. He lifted his head, unsure of what he would see, and found himself looking at Arthur's back. Arthur's shoulders were slumped forwards, his arms crossed loosely over his stomach, his head bowed and ears and tail drooping. He looked nothing at all like the Arthur Alfred knew and possibly almost loved. The knot in Alfred's chest tightened. "Arthur?" he asked, worried. "Arthur, what's wrong? Did I say something?"

"No," Arthur snapped, drawing tighter into himself. "You didn't say anything. Go back to Great Hall and the feast. Just leave me alone."

Alfred hesitated, shifting his weight from one sandal-clad foot to the other as he looked between Arthur, the flowers, and the door to the courtyard. There was no reason Arthur would grow so upset about some simple flowers, unless… A faint spark of hope flared to life inside his heart. "Arthur," Alfred asked, "what do you think I was going to do with these flowers?"

"Does it matter? Go away and leave me in peace. I have things I need to do." Arthur's voice had lost its bite, replaced by what sounded to Alfred like flat despair. His heart jumped again.

"No, it does matter," Alfred replied, doing his best to keep his voice firm and not allow his hopefulness to shine through. His fingers were trembling where they held the base of the bouquet. "What do you think I was doing? Do you think I was going to give them to someone?"

That was all it took. Arthur whirled around to face him, shocking Alfred enough to take a step back, and strode the few feet remaining between them to grab the cowl neck of Alfred's robe. "Yes!" he hissed, his mouth so close that Alfred could feel his breath. His eyes were wide and wild and very green. "Yes, you were going to give them to someone, and I don't know who it was and I don't care! I don't care! You're just not… giving them to me." As the last words slipped out, Arthur lost his momentary fire, releasing Alfred's neck and shrinking into himself again. He looked so forlorn that Alfred could not wait any longer.

"They are for you!" he blurted, shoving the flowers into Arthur's limp hands. "They were always for you. I picked them all especially for you!"

Arthur stared at him. "You what?" But his fingers were wrapping tentatively around the stems of the bouquet, and his eyes were losing that awful look.

Grinning sheepishly, Alfred rested one hand over Arthur's on the flowers. "I picked the flowers for you, because I wanted to ask you if you would maybe want to come take a walk with me after the feast tonight? Around the lake, maybe?" He could feel warmth blooming over his cheeks, but luckily he could see it blossoming on Arthur's face as well.

"A walk?" Though he still sounded unsure, Arthur was looking down at where their hands touched, his whiskers twitching as his lips began to curl up into a slight smile. "With you? Only the two of us?"

Alfred nodded quickly. "If you want to. I mean, I want to, of course." He ducked his head as he felt his blush grow hotter. This was certainly not how he'd planned for the conversation to go, but it still felt wonderful to say it aloud. "I like you a lot, Arthur. I have for a while, and I thought this was the perfect night to say something about it. You don't have to say yes if you don't want to go with me." He hoped that wouldn't be the case. The hope that battered painfully away at his chest would have been agony to smother.

Arthur swallowed once, his lips still quirked upwards. "Oh, Alfred, you daft mouse!" All at once, Alfred found himself with an armful of Arthur, his nose pressed to the side of hair that smelled like lavender and old books, one of Arthur's soft ears tickling his chin. "Of course I want to go with you," Arthur mumbled into his shoulder. "When you said you were going to give these flowers to someone, I thought…"

"I would never ask anyone else." It sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, but Alfred knew it was true. He tightened his hold around Arthur's waist for a few seconds, simply reveling in the fact that everything had turned out right, even if it had not gone quite to plan, before pulling away to beam down at Arthur. "Now how about we go to Great Hall and eat a little dinner? We can walk around the lake afterwards, and stay out as long as you want."

Smiling knowingly, Arthur tugged on one of Alfred's whiskers. "I suppose… But only if you promise not to eat all the candied chestnuts!" Before Alfred could react, he was racing out into the courtyard.

"Hey!" But Alfred was laughing, too, and was soon hot on Arthur's heels.

The feast was going to be perfect.

* * *

A/N- This is the fic I wrote for the USUK Anthology project on Livejournal, which you can download by going to the USUK community's page there. It is a Redwall crossover of sorts, though you may have noticed I carefully avoided using any names from the books, which I did for my own reasons. There is a piece of art that accompanies this fic, which I created myself, and can be seen on my DevArt account or art Tumblr, both of which I will be linking to my profile in a minute.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.


End file.
